


take comfort

by eomerking



Series: take comfort [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Mentions of Death, Swearing, You Have Been Warned, eventual kid fic, fluffy ending tho, marriage and stuff, teensy bit angsty, this is tooth rotting levels of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 16:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3495101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eomerking/pseuds/eomerking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Octavia hadn't though that she'd introduce her family to her new flatmate quite like this, but then she also hadn't expected for Clarke to be a sobbing mess only hours later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> um. this was supposed to be a short wriiting exercise, using a 'bad first meeting AU'. it somehow managed to develop something of a plot? idk  
> it's unchecked and everything, so read at your own peril

The first sign she has that Clarke’s woken up is the long chorus of swearwords, followed by the sound of someone falling out of bed. In retrospect, perhaps her company’s a bit too loud for a Monday morning.

“Jesus fucking _Christ_!”

Octavia winces and hides her behind her coffee mug. There’s another crash from the corridor that leads to Clarke’s room, the same corridor that also passes by the front door. Perhaps it’s also a bit too late to tell her brother and their friends that one of her flatmates works nights sometimes.

“ _What_?” Clarke all but yells as she trips over, “What’s with all the fucking _shoes_?”

Bellamy looks at her, his own coffee forgotten on the table. Monty and Jasper have stopped talking for a bare second to listen to Clarke storming towards them.

“ _Octavia_ ,” Clarke hisses as she finally rounds the corner. There’s a fresh scuff on her knee, which Octavia can see because Clarke is in her pyjamas – for Clarke that’s just a really big t-shirt. Her hair is down around her face, and she’s practically vibrating with anger.

“Why the fuck are you having a party at nine in the morning?”

“Clarke, this is my-” Octavia begins, trying to explain before Clarke could explode and kick her out of the apartment. Which is technically Clarke’s and Octavia’s only renting a room really. Not that it feels like it most of the time, but she _really_ doesn’t want to piss Clarke off overmuch.

Clarke holds up a hand and scowls. That look could level mountains and make hardened criminals wet themselves. As it is Octavia cringes and moves further back on her chair. She can hear the boys moving behind her.

“I literally – _literally_ \- do not give a shit. I don’t care who you have over, O, but make them shut up or take it elsewhere.”

“Hey,” Bellamy stands up, arms crossed over his broad chest, “this is Octavia’s place, too. She pays rent. Does she have to sign guests in or something?”

“No, Bellamy, it’s fine – I shouldn’t,” Octavia glances at Clarke, who looks like she’s about to collapse if not for the anger running through her. There’s bags under her eyes and her hair is an absolute mess. “I’m sorry, Clarke, go back to bed, okay?”

“Hell no, why should you have to apologise, O? It’s not like we’re here at midnight.” Bellamy says firmly, his own scowl levelled at Clarke. His isn’t quite as impressive as Octavia’s flatmate’s, but it can almost give it a run for its money. Clarke looks at Bellamy as if he’s something she might find on the bottom of her shoe.

“Listen, dickhead, I really _don’t_ care when you’re over, just _shut up_.”

“Why, did we interrupt your beauty sleep, princess?” Bellamy sneers. Octavia reaches out to hold his arm, trying to convey _shut up right now you big idiot_ without opening her mouth.

“Yes, actually. You did. And perhaps when you’ve just finished an eighteen hour shift and sewn a man’s fucking leg fucking _back_ _on_ , we can talk all about it.”

That shut her brother up completely. Bellamy was a policeman, he knows all about gruesome shifts.

“Hell, Clarke,” Octavia uses the brief silence to jump up out of her seat, using her whole body to herd Clarke back towards her room. The tiny blonde goes without much of a fight, but she does shoot venomous looks over her shoulder towards Bellamy. Octavia makes sure that she’s tucked up in bed and shuts the door firmly.

Bellamy looks sheepish when she gets back to the kitchen. Octavia sighs.

“I did tell you she’s a doctor.”

“Yeah, but you have two,” He says petulantly, meaning that she has two flatmates. “I thought she was the other one.”

“The other one who’s down in London at a mechanical expo?” Octavia asks archly. Bellamy looks even more sheepish.

* * *

 

 

They settle for a while, Monty and Jasper managing to contain their ever present excitement and talking at a normal volume. Third cups of coffee have been poured and doled out, and they all make themselves comfy for a day in. Octavia had meant to show them around the city, but the torrential rain quickly scuppered those plans. Bellamy had just turned on the TV when there’s a loud shout from Clarke’s room and the sound of her door hitting the wall.

Bellamy looks up in alarm. “It’s not even on loud!”

Before Octavia can reply Clarke flies into the room, babbling about something or other. Her pager is one hand and with the other she’s struggling to pull on her scrubs. She has her pants on, but the top is halfway around her neck.

“Clarke!” Octavia’s used to seeing Clarke rushing around at all times of the day, and is also used to seeing her wander round in various states of undress, but it’s barely been an hour since she went back to bed.

“No time! Have you seen my bag? Or my keys! Where do I leave my keys, O?”

She pauses for a bare second to talk, pulling her top on at the same time. Jasper seems mesmerised by the view of Clarke’s bra. By now, after two months of living with her, Octavia knows where everything is kept, including Clarke’s keys. She jogs back into the kitchen and fishes them out of the key bowl.

“Calm down for a second, Clarke. Are you going back into work? What are you doing?”

Clarke shakes her head, blonde hair flying.  She’s still moving, but she apparently has time to snort. “Back to work. It’s were I fucking live. Where the hell – why the fuck is _that_ over _there_?” She scrambles up on the couch, next to Bellamy, and reaches over him to grab her bag down from a shelf. Bellamy’s back curves at an almost unnatural angle to avoid touching her, which is highly comical to watch. His eyes are wide and close to panicked. Octavia doesn’t have time to laugh, she’s too busy watching Clarke, who’s off again, jumping off of the couch and running to the kitchen.

Octavia shoots out a hand, latching onto Clarke’s hand. It’s like trying to hold down a tornado. She shoves her coffee at the woman none to gently.

“One of my patients relapsed, O, I really can’t – oh, thanks.”

Clarke knocks back the drink in one, not even wincing at the heat or lack of sugar. While she’s gulping Octavia hands Clarke her keys, and then when she lashes the mug into the sink Octavia already has her shoes in hand. Clarke lifts herself up onto the counter and shoves her feet in, then kisses Octavia soundly on the cheek.

“I’m sorry, I love you, I’ll be back later!”

Then Clarke snags her coat off of the stand and she’s gone. Octavia didn’t even have time to tell her to take an umbrella.

* * *

 

Bellamy tries to ask questions about her flatmate, but honestly Octavia doesn’t even know what to tell him. Clarke’s a doctor, and well-off, and there’s other things that Octavia could probably say about her. But she’s only lived with Clarke and Raven for two months, their friendship is at girls’ nights in or out, not deep, emotional conversations. (Okay, that’s a lie: there’s been quite a few, but none that she’s willing to share with her _brother_ ).

At around one ‘o’ clock the door to the apartment opens after the scrabbling sound of someone trying – and failing – to get the key into the lock.

Clarke walks in, utterly bedraggled. She’s soaking wet, and her eyes are red-rimmed and puffy. The ever present noise of her boys has stopped as they stare at Clarke. Jasper is mouthing something to Monty, but Bellamy reaches over and smacks him before he can finish whatever it is that he was not-saying. Octavia springs up from the couch, already ready to fuss. She’s only ever seen Clarke like this once, only a few days after she moved in. Raven had jumped into action, already oozing soft words and comfort. She’d pulled Clarke onto the sofa and drawn out of her what was wrong.

Octavia doesn’t think she can handle Clarke like this alone.

Clarke shakes her head, sidestepping neatly and heading straight for the fridge. She pulls out a fairly expensive bottle of wine, then turns on her heel.

“Night, O,” Octavia’s mouth drops open, and she stutters out her words when she speaks.

“Clarke, no, you can’t-”

“I promise I’ll shout if I drown.” Clarke’s voice is an uninflected monotone. That worries Octavia more than the wine.

“Hey!” Octavia chases her down the corridor, and she can _feel_ her friends’ and Bellamy’s eyes on her back. Clarke turns slowly, her face a picture of absolute heartbreak. Octavia reaches out and takes Clarke’s hand, and that’s all it takes for her to burst into tears. Taking the wine bottle, Octavia sets it aside on the floor and gathers Clarke into her arms. She manoeuvres them through the door to Clarke’s bedroom and pushes Clarke as gently as she can until she’s sat on her bed.

Octavia dashes away for the barest second to start running a bath in Clarke’s en-suite,  and when she gets back into the room Clarke has her face buried in her hands, the tears still coming. She crouches in front of her, far enough away to not be crowding, but close enough that Clarke can reach for her if she wants.

“Hey now.” She all but whispers, “Hey, Clarke, come on. Look at me.”

Clarke does, eventually, heaving in great gulps of air. She smiles, but it’s a pale imitation of the real thing, all wobbly and watery. It holds for a fleeting second before it crumbles away and is replaced by more tears. Octavia tries to make soothing noises.

“They tell us, all the time, _don’t get attached_. But, O, he was getting better!”

Octavia knows who she’s talking about. Clarke had been gushing all week about a ‘miracle case’. A young boy with some sort of condition, but who was on the mend against the odds. Octavia knows what relapsing means, though, and she can very well guess what’s happened.

“It’s okay, Clarke. It’s okay. This is isn’t your fault, it could never be your fault. You’re good at your job and you try your hardest, everyone knows that. No one questions it.” Octavia knows she’s babbling. She’s never been good with emotions, not when she has a brother like Bellamy who gathered all of her problems up for her and stuffed them away so they couldn’t bother her.

“But I do!” Clarke wails, her hands on Octavia’s shoulders and stopping her from pulling Clarke in for a hug. Octavia is honestly at a loss. Last time this is when she disappeared to make hot chocolate and let Raven work on her own. She doesn’t know any words for the situation.

“You gonna beat yourself up because one of your patients died?”

Bellamy’s voice sounds from the doorway. Both she and Clarke turn to look at him quickly. He’s leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed and his chin tilted an angle. His eyes don’t leave Clarke’s. Octavia is about to tell him to firmly _fuck off_ when Clarke beats her to it.

“Why don’t you go ahead and fuck yourself? _Leave_.” Clarke snaps. Tears still run down her face, but the anguish in her face is being slowly replaced by fury. Bellamy’s eyes narrow.

“So you can drown in your bathtub? Yeah, I don’t think so, princess.”

Clarke jerks to her feet, her hands clenched at her sides. “ _Don’t call me that._ ”

“Why not? You’re certainly acting the part. A kid died. You’re a doctor. You deal with it.” Bellamy pushes away from the doorframe, stepping closer to Clarke. He towers over her. Octavia is still in a half crouch by Clarke’s bed, but she can’t bring herself to do anything but watch, her eyes wide.

“It’s not that-” Clarke breaks off, her eyes leaving Bellamy’s to bore holes in her shoes instead.

“Simple.” Bellamy finishes softly. “It has to be.”

“ _How_?” Clarke asks, her voice so small and pitiful that Octavia can feel a physical ache in her chest.

“Start small. Get in your bath, think of all the patients who didn’t die today, and who won’t die at all because _you_ are their doctor.” His hands move to cover Clarke’s shoulders, and it’s only when she sees the contrast between Bellamy’s steadiness and Clarke that Octavia realises that her flatmate is shaking like a leaf. That, at least, makes Octavia’s brain kick into action.

“Clarke, c’mon. Let’s get you warmed up.”

Clarke looks up at Bellamy one last time before she pulls away, stumbling in her exhaustion. She heads for the bathroom and Octavia has a moment to stop and thank her brother.

“I have no…this is usually Raven’s job.” She holds her hands up, trying to convey how helpless she feels.

“She cares too much.” Bellamy notes, his eyes on the closed bathroom door. Octavia manages a smile, because of course that would be the thing that Bellamy takes away from the conversation.

“Probably. But that’s Clarke, if she cares she _cares._ ” Octavia has to stand on her tip-toes to hug her brother. “Thank you, Bell.”

His lips curl into what could almost be considered a smile, then he ducks out of Clarke’s bedroom like he’d never been there at all.

* * *

 

Clarke sleeps through dinner, which is hardly a surprise. Octavia saves her some and keeps it away from the boys’ greedy hands. Jasper picks a film for them to watch and they pile onto the various pieces of furniture, beers and popcorn on the coffee table. Between them, Monty and Jasper keep up a quiet stream of chatter. In fact everything is quiet. The boys seem terrified of waking Clarke, though right now Octavia isn’t sure whether it’s because of Clarke or what Bellamy has probably threatened them with.

It isn’t a surprise when, after a solid ten hours of uninterrupted sleep, Clarke emerges from her room and heads straight for the fridge. She shoots Octavia a grateful look and shoves her dinner straight into the microwave. She’s dressed this time, in baggy sweatpants a jumper that clearly isn’t hers. When her food heated she pads over to the living room, a strange smile on her face. There’s a space next to Bellamy on the loveseat, and he throws his arm over the back in invitation. Clarke sits next to him, even though there’s also a space next to Octavia on the couch and an arm chair too.

Octavia tries not to listen in too much when they begin to speak quietly, but because everything is so quiet their conversation is to. She catches whispers of assurance and thanks between them and not much else, so Octavia settles in to watch the film, content that her brother hadn’t upset her flatmate and that she had until lunchtime tomorrow to clear out. She doesn’t keep much of a close eye on them, her attention on the film instead, which is how she misses them cuddle closer and Bellamy’s arm slip from the back of the loveseat to around Clarke’s shoulders. She also misses how Clarke curls her legs up under herself and how her head settles on Bellamy’s chest.

But Octavia _definitely_ catches when Clarke smiles at him warmly on the way out, and how Bellamy presses a kiss to her cheek and murmurs _see you next week, princess._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After missing the beginning of her brother's and her flatmate's romance despite being only five feet away, Octavia is determined she won't miss anything else.
> 
> Snapshots of the lives of the people Octavia loves, over years and years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this really wasn't supposed to have a second chapter, but after such nice things were said about the first one, my muse kicked in and this happened. it's so fluffy i almost got diabetes writing it. it also wasn't supposed to be as long as it is (basically doubliing the fic size) but blame that on the positive effects of nice comments. 
> 
> as per, un-checked and everything.

Raven comes home from the expo with a smudge of mechanical grease on her neck. When Clarke tries to rub it off they find that it’s actually a hickey covered in grease. Raven squirms away and claps a hand over it.

Clarke rocks back on her heels, “Wick,” she breathes, like she just found out that Raven had necked a celebrity. Raven shrugs, feigning nonchalance, and looks at Clarke with a smirk on her face.

“At least I’m not going on a date with our flatmate’s _brother._ ”

Clarke blushes heavily and looks down at her feet. It’s quiet for a few moments, before they hear Clarke mumble.

“Shut up.”

* * *

 

Octavia and Raven spy from the kitchen when Bellamy comes to pick Clarke up. Clarke had said that they were going out for dinner, and so she was dressed suitably in a dark purple dress and tall black stilettoes she’d borrowed off of Raven. Raven’s eyebrows rise when she sees Bellamy, and she nods at Clarke in an approving way. He’s wearing a dark, tailored suit and a crisp white shirt that had the top two buttons undone. Bellamy had even made an effort to tame his hair.

He takes Clarke’s hand and kissed her on the cheek, and it was clear from the way her cheeks grow pink that Bellamy was whispering something to her. Octavia waves cheerily as they leave, Bellamy’s hand on Clarke’s lower back. He turns to narrow his eyes at Octavia, and when he does Raven moves her fingers to her mouth and whistles.

Clarke comes home late that night, but Raven and Octavia are sat up waiting anyway, like parents. She kicks off Raven’s shoes at the door and comes to sit between them on the couch. Her face is flushed and her hair is messier than when she left. Clarke isn’t wearing lipstick now either. She looks happier than Octavia has ever seen her.

“Oh, O. It was _perfect_.” She says quietly, her smile wide and her eyes bright. On the other side of her Raven flings an arm around Clarke’s shoulders and demands details. Raven is soon distracted and goes off on a tangent about Bellamy’s car, and Clarke takes the opportunity to link her fingers with Octavia and murmur to her _I’m never shouting at your guests again._

* * *

 

After that Bellamy is around at the apartment a lot. If Clarke isn’t at home or the hospital, then Octavia and Raven know that she’s taken the half-hour train ride to see Bellamy. Octavia doesn’t mind, even when she walks into the longue and sees them all tangled up on the couch.

It is kind of a bother when she hears them through the walls (which are apparently not as thick as she’d previously thought).

* * *

 

Somehow Jasper and Monty manage to worm themselves into Octavia’s life again, infiltrating at every level. One day Jasper is suddenly Raven’s best friend, and Monty and Clarke go out to lunch weekly. They’re around almost as much as Bellamy is. Octavia really doesn’t mind.

* * *

 

When seven months later Bellamy gets a transfer to the police borough that Octavia lives in, it comes as a surprise to absolutely _no one_. Octavia rolls her eyes when Bellamy comes over to tell her.

“You can just admit that you moved because you love her, Bell, everyone knows.”

Bellamy ducks his head and blushes.

“She doesn’t.”

Octavia makes a disgusted noise, and does them both a favour and pulls Raven out for the night, carrying enough cash that they can get a room in a Travel Inn.

When they get in in the morning, Bellamy is making pancakes and Clarke is leaning on the counter next to him. Octavia says nothing about the fact that her brother is shirtless or that Clarke won’t look her in the eye.

* * *

 

Clarke is hardly ever home anymore. Raven tells Clarke to kiss Bellamy for her when she dashes out of the flat. And she always dashes because she’s always so eager to leave. Octavia would be offended, but when Clarke and Bellamy look at each other they have literal heart-eyes.

Raven _despairs_ whenever she sees it, her talk of female solidarity lost in the midst of all that love.

* * *

 

Nearly a year and a half has passed since Clarke first met Bellamy. Octavia is awake working on her thesis ( _not_ because she’s skyping her American beau, Raven can shut up). She nearly dies of shock when there’s a thump on the door. Several thumps. She looks at her laptop, and sees Lincoln’s face creased with concern (so maybe sometimes Raven’s right. Whatever). It’s almost four AM.

Octavia walks through the kitchen carefully, and palms the rolling pin on her way through. Clarke sticks her head out of her door, sleep mussed and worried. She creeps up beside her, and together they ready themselves as Octavia reaches to pull open the door.

Bellamy is slumped against the frame, soaked to the core. The fact that he’s covered in rain doesn’t disguise the fact that he’s been crying.

“Bellamy, love,” Clarke breathes, and she’s already stretching out a hand to pull Bellamy closer to her. She shoots Octavia a look and then flicks her head to the kitchen and mouths the word ‘tea’. Octavia nods dumbly, her legs carrying her over to the kitchen as Clarke leads Bellamy to her room. The minutes it takes for the kettle to boil and for the tea to brew feel more like hours, and when Octavia finally has the cuppa ready (dash of milk and two sugars) she all but runs down the corridor to Clarke’s room.

Octavia has the forethought to knock, and she pushes through the door after waiting a second. Bellamy is a dripping mess on Clarke’s bed, curled in on himself and visibly shaking. Clarke stands to take the tea from Octavia’s hands, then sits beside Bellamy on the bed. She takes his face in hand and turns him towards her, and Octavia is suddenly aware that she has no place there.

She backs out silently. She tells Lincoln goodnight and settles in to sleep, suddenly confronted by the fact that her brother isn’t just _hers_ anymore.

* * *

 

 

Raven has been acting fishy all week, obviously so. Every time she talks to Clarke she smirks, and whenever Octavia tries to ask what the joke is, Raven giggles and slinks away.

Clarke comes home after a weekend away with Bellamy, beaming and sun-kissed. The first thing she does when she gets home is to hold out her left hand. Octavia screams when she sees the rock, big and beautiful, sitting on Clarke’s ring finger. They jump up and down together, hugging and shouting.

Raven doesn’t look surprised at all.

* * *

 

Two weeks later, Raven waltzes into the flat and throws down a stack of magazines on the table. Wick, who Octavia has met many times, walks in behind her. Octavia _knows_ how besotted they are with each other, even though Raven grunts and shrugs when she’s asked about it.

Clarke peers at the magazines, then freezes utterly. Octavia frowns and moves closer, so she’s able to see the glossy covers advertising cots and prams. Raven’s grin is wide and Wick looks utterly smug. He wraps an arm around her and holds her close.

“We had an accident.”

* * *

 

Raven does not have a good pregnancy, that much is sure. Every time she speaks there is a complaint, and she throws things a lot. Wick sticks by her side resolutely, never loving her less. Octavia is jealous. Not of how uncomfortable Raven is, of course, but that her two friends have partners that love them so damn much. Skyping Lincoln is good, and admittedly she does love him, but sometime she wishes that he could be _closer_.

They had met when his boss had sent him over to supervise an overseas branch in the UK. He flies over often, but sometimes it just isn’t enough.

The feeling of loneliness grows worse when over dinner one day Raven tells her and Clarke that she’s moving out.

* * *

 

 

Eight months later Octavia is sitting in the hospital waiting room, where she’s been for hours. Bellamy sits next to her, and across from her is Monty and Jasper. The three men are as pale as Octavia has ever seen them. Raven’s shouts are audible at the other end of the ward. Every other breath is used to scream at Wick and curse him for ever being born, and for every daring to have sex with her. Clarke is in with her, and every now again one of Raven’s screeches will be about Clarke’s heritage or her face.

When the baby’s finally born Clarke abuses her power completely and waves far more people into Raven’s room than should be allowed.

Leo Alexander Wick-Reyes is tiny. He has olive skin and blue eyes and a thatch of thick sandy-brown hair. Octavia is sure that once he looks more like a little person and less like a scrunched up potato he will be beautiful.

* * *

 

Octavia is a bridesmaid at Clarke’s wedding, standing beside Raven, who acts as Maid-of-Honour. In the crowd Leo is sat on Wick’s knee, waving and gurgling happily, his eyes never leaving his mother. Wick’s eyes don’t move either (no one can blame him; Raven got her pre-baby body back so quickly that the whole of her post-natal class is taking notes). If Octavia looks further into the crowd she can see Lincoln, who looks mouth-watering in a pale blue suit that only enhances how fit he is. He told her when she met him at the airport that he’d begged his boss for a permanent transfer. It’s quite possibly the first time Octavia has cried in public.

Bellamy is jittery with nerves, his toes tapping and his jaw clenched. Miller, the best man, is muttering to him. It’s all for naught, though, because once the music starts Bellamy is rooted to the spot. He looks up the aisle, his eyes landing on Clarke. She’s walking down on her dad’s arm, looking absolutely resplendent in a custom made Vera Wang dress that her mother had paid for without blinking. The white silk is paired with the softest of periwinkle, the same colour as the flowers the bride is holding, the bridesmaid’s dresses, and Clarke’s eyes.

Even to the side, Octavia can see the tears build in her brother’s eyes.

The ceremony is personal and heart-wrenching. Bellamy and Clarke each have vows that they’ve written themselves. They speak in loud voices about their devotion and love, their eyes never leaving each other.

They kiss, and the room explodes. Even Leo screams with delight.

* * *

 

On Leo’s first birthday the room grows quiet when Wick gets down on one knee. Raven is holding her baby in her arms, trying to wipe cake off of his round cheeks. She freezes at the sight of Wick on the floor in front of her, and Leo garbles happily, reaching for his father. With one hand Wick reaches into his pocket and pulls out what is unmistakably a ring, and with the other he takes his son’s hand.

Raven is still for a long time, her gaze firmly on Wick’s hand. Then she smirks.

“What, having a kid wasn’t enough for you? You gonna tie me down further?” There isn’t any bite to her words. Wick smiles charmingly, standing up. Leo is cradled between them.

“Can’t take any chances on you leaving, Reyes.” His voice is warm, and he holds the ring in front of her face. Raven’s smirk breaks into a smile.

“God, you’re such an idiot, Kyle.”

“That isn’t an answer, my love.”

Raven rolls her eyes and kisses him.

* * *

 

Octavia has been with Lincoln for three years, and lived with him for over one. Clarke had given her the apartment when she moved into Bellamy’s. Octavia had tried to put up a fight, but Clarke had shaken her head and laughed.

“This is all because of you, O. Might as well take some credit.”

She and Lincoln take full advantage of having their own home, and Octavia is only a little bit sad when they redecorate. Clarke and Bellamy, Raven and Wick and Leo, and all of their friends come over when the makeover is finished. They eat and drink and tell stories. Leo gets passed around the room, as he always does. He’s sat on Monty’s knee, happily accepting kisses and cuddles, when Clarke and Bellamy stand up.

“Not to take away from O’s excellent decorating skills,” Bellamy begins, smirking.

“Or Lincoln’s _fantastic_ lasagne,” Clarke adds, beaming at Octavia’s boyfriend.

“But we have some news.” Octavia can almost see what’s coming, and she breathes out a soft _no way_ at the same time Clarke squeezes her husband’s hand and shouts,

“I’m pregnant!”

* * *

 

After the baby shower, Clarke’s dad tells Octavia has always been extraordinary, from a baby upwards.

“And I’m sure Bellamy was too, to have been made Inspector so young. So,” He continues, “I’m not sure why people are so surprised they’re having triplets.”

* * *

 

Octavia gets named Godmother for Aurora Grace, Raven for Livia Thea, and Miller is Godfather to the youngest triplet, Augustus Wells (because  _of course_  two of Bellamy’s three children would be named after ancient Romans).

The couple gets run absolutely ragged, to the point where they actually move in with Clarke’s parents for a good while. They have a constant stream of visitors, and Bellamy scowls at almost every single one of them, even Octavia, until Clarke punches him solidly in the arm.

“For god’s sake Bellamy, they’re not here to hurt us.”

Bellamy grumbles and stomps into the kitchen to fetch more bottles. Lincoln, who has all three of the babies cradled in his massive arms, looks over to Octavia and raises his eyebrows. Octavia shrugs. So does Clarke.

“Having kids changes you.”

* * *

 

Raven and Wick get married three years after Leo is born. Their son is slim and quick, and so clever he can outsmart his parents at every turn. They don’t seem to mind. He’s already in half a dozen programs for tiny geniuses.

Leo doesn’t have any problem walking down the aisle behind his mother, his tongue poking out of his lips as he concentrates on holding the pillow bearing the rings.

Aurora wails through the wedding march, and when he’s given the rings to the priest Leo dashes back down the aisle to where Bellamy and Jasper have the triplets spread between their laps. Leo clambers up next to the oldest Blake child and she latches on to him immediately, her cries disappearing. From her place by Raven, Clarke hides her smile behind her flowers. Raven doesn’t bother hiding hers, and neither does Wick.

“Hey, Bellamy,” He calls jovially before the priest can begin speaking, “Am I sensing a Wick-Reyes-Blake future?”

His fiancée reaches out to poke him in the ribs, her grin wide. “Shut up and marry me, Kyle.”

* * *

 

Lincoln proposes to her in the depth of winter. They’re over in the US visiting Lincoln’s family (who are all as tall and broad and scary-looking as Octavia’s boyfriend, but as lovely too), and out on a walk through a snow covered forest.

It’s the cheesiest gesture ever. Lincoln stops them for a picnic on top of a hill that looks over miles and miles of snow topped trees and icy rivers. It’s covered on three sides by trees, and it’s surprising warm compared to the rest of their walk. They settle on a thick blanket and Lincoln busies himself pulling food out of his backpack. Octavia looks away from the scenery when she hears the _pop_ of champagne being opened. Lincoln pours two glasses with his back to her, and when he hands Octavia’s to her his eyes don’t ever leave the glass. Octavia looks down to see what the problem is, and sees the ring around the neck of the champagne flute.

Her breath catches and she finds that she can’t look away from it either.

“Lincoln,” she breathes.

“Are you going to drink it?” He aims for his voice to sound easy-going, but Octavia can read nervousness in every inch of him. Octavia nods and blinks back tears. His grin is infectious, and he leans close to her and spins the bottom off of the flute and catches the ring. The hold Octavia has on the flute is almost deathly, and she’s sure she’s shaking almost as much as Lincoln is as he slips it onto her finger.

The champagne is actually forgotten for a while (Octavia has never made love in snow before).

* * *

 

They get married in winter too. All off Lincoln’s family flies over and they more than fill up his side of the church, loud and boisterous. Octavia commits every moment of it to memory, from her walk up on Bellamy’s arm, to how Lincoln looks at her under the arch and says _I do_ , to how stupidly she Clarke and Raven dance in the night time.

* * *

 

She’ll recount it all, years later, at a barbeque for the triplets' birthday. They’re sixteen and all tall and clever and mouthy and beautiful. Aurora and Leo disappear and think no one notices, and Augie spends most of the evening sitting with Jasper and Maya’s daughter Harmony. Livia has cut all of her hair of and skulks around the edges of the party, dressed in dark clothes. Bellamy despairs over all of them, and Clarke has to shush him by kissing him.

When it gets dark Octavia gathers all of the kids to her; Leo, Aurora, Augie, Livia, Harmony and Vincent, Miller and Monty’s adopted son Tommy. Lincoln holds their own bundles of joy, Luca and Ruby, who at seven and six are more than happy to be cuddled by their father.

“How about,” Octavia begins when they’re all close enough, “I tell you how Auntie Clarke and Uncle Bellamy met?”

There’s cheers from the children, despite having heard the story many times before. The adults gravitate closer too, couples holding onto each other. Bellamy holds Clarke from behind, his chin on her shoulder. From this angle it’s easy to see the grey at his temples and the faint lines on Clarke’s face. Raven is sat on Wick’s knee (It’s almost been twenty years, but calling him _Kyle_ seems wrong), and they haven’t escaped aging any better than the rest of them. Octavia has her fair share of creases, which she massaged away and hides under foundation because she’s not _old_ yet.

“Okay, okay,” She holds up her hands, “It began when Bellamy, Uncle Monty, and Uncle Jasper came to see my new house. They hadn’t been there before, and we were going to make a day of it. Unfortunately, it was raining…”

Octavia carries on with the story that isn’t really hers. It will go how it always does; she’ll tell them about how Leo was born, and then Clarke and Bellamy’s wedding, narrating all the way up the present day. The kids will eat it up, as they always do, and the adults will stare at each other with loving smiles and warm eyes.

Out of the corner of her eye Octavia can see Bellamy murmuring the same words that she’s speaking into Clarke’s ears. She looks over the upturned faces of all of the kids, her nieces and nephews by blood or not, and her own children, spitting images of their father. The love for them burns fiercely in her heart, and for a second she stumbles over her words.

Octavia has never been so glad for the rain in England.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it, definitley! i'm not going to write any more chapters, but if you want like, i dunno, a tiny scene or something my tumblr is wide open.
> 
> edit: i just checked this over again and found so many spelling mistakes! they're corrected now, and i apologise  
> edit edit: there's now a whole other fic for prompt-fills, etc; part of the same series as this

**Author's Note:**

> bear in mind, please, that i'm not a doctor or anysort of medical person, which is why i kept it so vague. but yeah, if you liked it, tell me?


End file.
